


Blindingly Obvious

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [34]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Gen, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26783632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Pretty Polly came down with a fever, Matt Oyster caught a knife between the ribs, and they’re late delivering the Sodden Triple Mead.Blindingly ObviousSomething that is so plain to see that it is easily overlooked
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Zoltan Chivay & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher (A/B/O) [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598041
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	Blindingly Obvious

**Author's Note:**

> So if you've not played the game... Zoltan has a pet owl named Poppy. It's very cute. He put a fake helmet on it and everything.

“It looks different than I remembered,” said Ciri, studying the outside of the Chameleon as they approached.

“Dandelion’s been doing-” Geralt waved his hand “-something with it.”

Ciri snorted. “Not your forte?” she asked.

“It’s just… no.”

She stopped suddenly, then turned to look at Geralt. “Is he yours?”

Geralt scowled. “No.” He didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but it was a question he was getting sick of answering. No, he didn’t own Dandelion. He never had and he never would. “Does it matter?”

She shrugged. “I’m debating if I should call him Uncle Dandelion or not.”

Geralt paused. His first instinct was to say no, Dandelion would be horrified to be called Uncle anything and would probably think it was a jab at his age. Then he remembered something Dandelion had said to him, back in a seedy bar in Vizima. _“I’m a poet, Geralt. I’ve never had a family.”_

“Geralt?” Ciri asked, tilting her head. “If you think he wouldn’t like-”

“He’d love it.”

Inside the cabaret, Geralt was pleasantly surprised to see patrons milling around. It seemed that Dandelion’s secrets hadn’t scared away everyone. Of course, there was always the chance that people had just come to gape. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Dandelion and Zoltan weren’t telling him everything about the goings-on at the bar and the poet’s mental state.

“Dandeeeelion!” shouted Zoltan. “Ready some tankards! We’ve got guests!”

The bard’s head popped up from behind the counter and his face lit up. “Geralt! Ciri!” Then he disappeared behind the counter again, before wheeling out from behind it. He was in his wheel chair again, and rolled toward them with a smile on his face. “Where have you been? We’ve been back for weeks!”

“Just finished hunting down the Crones of Velen and a general of the Wild Hunt,” Geralt replied, giving the chair a questioning glance. Dandelion didn’t explain it.

“Well, you’ve had a busy morn then, haven’t ya?” asked Zoltan.

“In fact, you look terrible,” said the bard, shaking his head. “Like you could really use some rest.”

“Gladly take some,” said Ciri. “Just point me to a room.”

“Come on little swallow,” said Zoltan, motioning toward the stairs. “I’ll take ye.”

“Aw,” complained Dandelion, “I wanted to show Ciri her room.”

“I’m too tired for a tour, Dandelion,” she said with a smile. “You can show me later.”

He clapped his hands in delight as she headed off, following Zoltan up the stairs.

“Anything happen while we were away?” Geralt asked, hoping Dandelion would explain why he was using his chair again.

“Uh, Pretty Polly came down with a fever, Matt Oyster caught a knife between the ribs, and they’re late delivering the Sodden Triple Mead-”

“Dandelion.” He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “You’re using your chair again.”

“Ah, well, I might have strained myself, journeying all the way to Kaer Morhen and back,” he said uneasily. “But Triss says I’ll be fine! Just, healing a bit slower. That’s all. I don’t really _need_ it,” he said, “it’s just easier when I use it.” 

Geralt decided not to call his bluff. He could ask Triss about it later. “Lodge of Sorceresses - Triss and Yen were supposed to gather the remnants.”

“They’re working on it. Triss is looking for Phillipa.” He sniggered, then added, “Yennefer’s gone to Crippled Kate’s.”

“Yen? At that portside dive?” Geralt asked in disbelief. “Why?”

“Didn’t inform me,” said the poet with a shrug. “Imagine that.” He paused, then muttered, “and that elf has moved into the Ruby Suite, told me to tell you he’s waiting, too.”

“Gave him your best room?”

Dandelion scowled. “He didn’t exactly _ask_. I’d prepared another room for him, but he blew past me and locked himself in the Ruby. Hasn’t peeked out since. Barely eats, drinks only water, and the only thing I’ve heard from him is _“I wish to know when Gwynbleidd and Zireael arrive”_ as if you don’t have actual names.”

Geralt shook his head. “You’d know a thing or two about real names, wouldn’t you _Dandelion_?”

“Yes, but you two actually choose to go by those names, so the least he could do is remember that!”

Geralt shook his head. “Anything else?” he asked. “We passed bodies on the way in to town.”

“The mages are leaving so the Witch Hunters needed someone else to terrorize,” the bard said with a sigh. “Non-humans, today, omegas tomorrow I suppose. But don’t worry about me Geralt, I’ll be safe as long as everyone thinks I’m bonded to you.” 

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.” He was a good liar, but Geralt knew him too well. Once again though, it seemed best not to call his bluff.

“Oh,” said Dandelion softly. “One other thing- you remember Zoltan’s owl?”

“The one he thought he could teach to talk?”

Dandelion grinned. “Well, this one actually talks it seems.”

Geralt glanced around, but the bird wasn’t anywhere in sight. “Where’s the bird?” he asked.

“Uh, let me start at the beginning - and Geralt, I had nothing to do with _any_ of this.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dandelion.”

“Triss has been looking for Phillipa Eilhart, we were able to track her movements since Loc Muinne. It seems she came here, to Novigrad, looking for help from a former lover-”

“Let me guess,” said Geralt, “you?”

“I don’t fuck sorceresses. One of the two of us has sense,” said the bard, folding his arms over his chest. “No, Geralt, she was looking for Arthur de Vleester.”

“Vleester?”

“Phillipa made a fool of him once - I wrote a poem about it, if you’d like to read it, I’d have to find it though, it’s been a few years…” his voice trailed off and he glanced over his shoulder, no doubt trying to remember where he might have put his papers.

“Dandelion, stick to the story, I’ll read your poetry later.”

“Oh! Right. He convinced her she’d be safest as an owl - remember, she came in through your window when-”

“Yes, Dandelion I remember-”

“-I caught you in bed with Shani,” he continued, as though he hadn’t heard Geralt’s objections. He frowned, and mused, “I came in through the window too…”

“And I threatened to throw you back out it, you poetaster,” said Geralt, folding his arms over his chest. “Because you’d gotten in over your head with Dijkstra again.”

Dandelion shrugged. “Where was I- Oh! Right. So Phillipa turned into an owl, and he snapped a dimeterium band around her ankle.”

“Wait,” said Geralt. “You aren’t saying-”

“Arthur fell victim to the mage hunts, and when they auctioned off his estate…”

“Zoltan bought Phillipa?” Geralt asked in disbelief. “Where is she?”

Dandelion sighed.“Zoltan lost her in a card game a few days ago.”

Geralt couldn’t help but laugh. “Yep. That’s Zoltan for you.”

“I don’t know who it was,” Dandelion said. “A stranger, he came, fleeced Zoltan bare, and then proposed that they should play for the owl.”

“And he won,” Geralt guessed. “Where were you, oh Master of Gwent?”

“The Passiflora.”

“Figures,” Geralt grumbled. “Are there any leads?”

“I have a feather she dropped, I was going to have a new hat made - could you imagine, a mage’s feather on a hat-”

“Dandelion, where’s the feather now?”

“Triss took it,” he grumbled. “Said something about divination and fountains? I don’t know.” He shrugged.

“She find anything out?”

“I told her there’s well in the back,” he nodded to the door. “A few minutes later she came back, muttering about bathhouses, then left.”

“Bathhouses?” Geralt repeated. “That’s it? When was this?”

“A few hours?” Dandelion offered. “I’m not certain. Ah, she also said I wasn’t allowed to leave the tavern until she came back, not certain what that had to do with anything.”

Geralt could guess. “Dijkstra.”

Dandelion blinked. “That would make sense. I did hear a rumor she sent assassins after him, many years ago.” 

**Author's Note:**

> The Phillipa as an owl/coming in through the window/Geralt fucking Shani comes from Blood of Elves. It’s a great scene.


End file.
